100 Situations
by So Teeny
Summary: From the LJ comm, 100 Situations. Using Table 2, I hope I can spread some Trauma Center fandom around, not to mention a bit of yaoi for all of you guys who are like me and feel the need to read up some yaoi once in a while. Greg Kasal/Derek Stiles. Yaoi.
1. Flu: Making House Calls

**Title:** Making House Calls  
**Fandom: **Trauma Center  
**Characters/Pairings: **Greg Kasal/Derek Stiles  
**Word Count:** 2,129  
**Prompt: **025. Flu  
**Rating: **NC-17  
**Spoilers:** None  
**Author's Note: **HAY GUYZ!! LULZ, well, enough of that. I'm baaaaaack and with Trauma Center shorts in a collection called "100 Situations" from the comm on LJ! I thought perhaps I'd start posting them now, so please, read and review! When I finished writing this, I thought that "house call" bit was a seriously _bad _joke, ehe.  
**Summary: **_Being sick with the flu is, to be honest, no fun._

Derek sighs softly as he lies upon his couch, head buried deeply within the pillow beneath him. Though he's grateful for the day off, the symptoms that come with the flu are almost not worth tolerating. He'd honestly rather be sitting at his desk doing paperwork or operating on a patient at this point between the runny nose and the sore throat, he's sure that's what he'd rather be doing. He lifts the thick blanket up a bit over his shoulder and sets aside the book he had been reading previously, his slender, pale finger leaving the place where he'd kept it if he'd wanted to continue (which he honestly didn't, it was horrible book). As he rolls over onto his back to stare up at the ceiling in his feverish daze, he suddenly hears a loud knock upon the door, to which he jolts and sits upright, receiving a headache in return. With a slight whimper, he clutches his head and bites his lower lip. "Who is it...?" he manages as he pulls the covers from over his bare legs and sets his feet on the cold ground. He gropes for his glasses, and once they are found, he puts them on, blinking his eyes to assist them in coming into focus.

"Take a guess," comes a smooth voice from behind the door, which seems so very far away, and Derek would have not even attempted to open it if he didn't know who it was. With a shudder, he stands, slowly walking over to the door, ever step painful and sending a throbbing sensation rushing throughout his aching body. The door is knocked upon again and he grips the knob, opening it slowly and peering outside, seeing a pair of dark brown eyes gazing at him rather easily. "Well, guess Angie _was_ wrong," Greg chuckles softly, not waiting to be invited in and nudging the door shut behind him. Derek rolls his eyes and turns around, slowly making his way back to the couch, only to feel warm arms wrap around his waist and a mouth rest upon the side of his neck. Already, there is a tongue that probes lightly at the smoothness of his neck, and the wetness it leaves quickly evaporates upon his hot skin. In a rasping voice, he hears Greg then add, "I came for a house call… how are we feeling today, Mister Stiles, hm?"

"M'sick, get away," Derek manages, trying to push away the older man, turning around with his fingers pushing against his chest as best he can with whatever strength he can pull together. "If you get sick, I'm going to kill you," he then adds and turns his head away. With a huff, he pushes Greg away completely (though he's sure that the older man had purposely let him go, much like a cat letting a mouse escape a few feet before pouncing upon it again. He can feels eyes upon his back as he lies down once more on the couch, resting upon his stomach with his cheek shoved into the pillow and his left arm draped over the side of the couch.

"But doesn't that defeat the purpose of why I came to see you?" Greg laughs and Derek groans as he hears the man's footsteps near him and a heavy weight rest upon his back. The couch creaks beneath their weight as soft breaths move along his neck, large hands trailing his shoulders and sides. "You're feverish..."

"_Really?"_ Derek replies with as much sarcasm in his voice as his body will allow. He shivers as one of those hands slides beneath him, into the waist band of his pants, softly stroking his hip bone and teasingly dipping down once in a while to brush his slight erection. He moans and his hands find solid holds upon the fabric of the couch as Greg's mouth rests itself upon his neck once more and begins to move downwards, shoving down the collar of his t-shirt for more access. "Stoppit," he hisses and arches his back upwards slightly only to be pressed down again, words stroking his ear now as Greg's lips brush the curve of it.

"You're warm, I'm guessing at a decent one-oh-three, or one-oh-four, and you're lying here because you feel faint. Like you might just fall asleep here and never wake up, hm?"

"Go _away_," Derek says with a muffled voice as his shirt is slowly worked off of him, his fingers releasing the couch to let the arms of it slide off with ease over his hands. His fevered skin reacts with a subsequent display of shivering, and he grits his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut. Greg slowly shifts him onto his back, but ever movement is painful, and he lets out a shaking breath as lips brush against his own, dry and cracked ones. He jerks back and glares as his glasses are removed and set upon the coffee table, Greg's eyes never leaving his own. "You kiss me and get sick and everyone's going to know," he breathes.

"So let them know, does it matter?" he laughs carelessly. "You're forgetting, I'm not like my brother, and I'm certainly _not_ afraid of catching a cold. I'll come up with something, m'kay?"

"Assho—" Derek begins only to have his voice muffled once more, his head tilted upwards to allow Greg a better angle at which to kiss him. His body stretches just slightly as hot hands pass over his shoulders and stop where his pectoral muscles are. He feels a pair of fingers to his left grasp his nipple and twist just slightly, causing his breath to catch within his throat as the tongue now within his mouth deeply trails towards his back teeth, brushing them teasingly. The warm, wet muscle brushes along his own, luring it out of his mouth for a moment and at last into his own. Greg breaks their kiss slowly to look down at him and smile.

"Congested, Derek?" he chuckles and Derek feels his chest tighten even more as he struggles to shift upwards and gain a bit more leverage to assist in opening up his sinuses. "Then I'll make this quick and painless."

Derek shivers slightly and feels his body being dragged down his boxer-shorts being dragged down his thighs slowly, to his knees, his calves, and at last they land upon the floor and he's completely stripped, his naked chest falling and rising quickly and his erection is hardening and dripping between his thighs. He has trouble catching his breath as Greg's hands grope and finger any area of skin available to him. Derek, deciding to help this along, proceeds to undo the dark-colored tie, dropping it onto the floor and fumbling with the buttons that seems to blend in with his white shirt. Eventually, he simply tears the shirt away from him, one of the buttons flying off to land somewhere with a light clicking sound. Heat rises within him slowly as he then works off the black leather belt, fly, and clasp, shucking his pants off quickly with his boxers, letting them drape over the couch's back.

He doesn't know why, but the dizzying feeling soon turns into some sort of high, and he feels his heart beat just a bit faster, his fingers eager to run over pale skin and to feel it beneath their callused pads. He shivers as he feels Greg's mouth against his cheek, then along his eat, hot and wet, a tongue moving to softly stroke just beneath the lobe and trace along his jaw line in an expert manner. He moans within his throat, not daring to open his mouth, and he closes his eyes, twisting just slightly to show his want for this to hurry itself up. For a few moments, he manages to hold himself up and set a firm kiss upon welcoming, hard lips, and it seems to take about as much energy as it does to induce his bouts of intense focus during surgery. He breathes long and hard, hoping to make it last until a hand at hjs back proceeds to softly stroke him into a relaxed state.

At last, Derek lets himself fall back, the pillows being tossed off to the ground to allot them a more level area as Greg proceeds to go through the pockets of his pants and finds a tube of lubricant in the side pocket. With a smile, he pours a bit upon his fingers and sets a warm kiss upon Derek's lips as a slight warning as his first finger slips in, the sheer heat and length of it causing Derek to moan and twist here and there, longing for the first finger to hit him precisely where it ought to. However, he knows that the man above him is holding himself back on purpose to raise the warmth of their inevitable climax together.

"God, I could do this all day," Greg whispers in a soft voice, slipping another finger in, this one deeper and more penetrating so that it barely touches his spot. He whimpers slightly as he feels the fingers scissor inside of his entrance and he digs his heels into the couch as his legs spread now. He feels hot lips upon his stomach, leaving a wet trail about his navel, dipping in once in a while and bringing a cry to issue from his mouth. He can feel the heat of both of their erections; Greg's resting against his left thigh and rather eager looking by how the tip weeps with precome. Every time the fingers inside of him stretch him, he lets out soft sounds of contentment and yet discomfort as well simply because his sinuses are blocked and his body is both freezing and on fire.

"Hurry _up_," Derek chokes out as the fingers are removed from within him and replaced with a hard, throbbing member that slowly begins to pump in and out of him. The shock of it causes him to cough harshly and gasp a bit for air, but he manages. He can only reach upwards and grasp anything he can, that being Greg's shoulders. He pulls himself up once more and digs his shorn nails into the skin at the older man's shoulders, feeling his arms wrapped around his slender body to pull him close. Derek feels himself slowly losing it between the fatigue and the wonderful sensation of having the dark, sweet spot within him hit perfectly now. He buries his head into Greg's shoulder frantically, seeking a way to anchor himself down.

It goes on for who only knows how long, thrusting and soft sounds, a cacophony and a symphony at once of rushed phrases such as _"harder, damn it!"_ or _"hush, hush"_ until Derek feels himself come violently between them both, the tackiness intermixing with their sweat and the lubricant that has made its way out onto the inside of his thighs. He scrabbles for purchase against Greg's back, which is slippery with sweat at this point and littered with half-moon shapes from his nails, but only succeeds in falling back with Greg still buried deeply inside of him and thrusting a few more times before he comes as well inside of his body.

"Mmm…" Derek sighs softly, feeling sweat begin to form upon his brow as Greg then pulls out of him and leans over to rest upon his side on the inside of the couch, pulling Derek close to him and nuzzling against his shoulder tiredly. He can still feel the wetness between his legs long after Greg has drifted off against his shoulder, longer after a long, warm arm is draped along his waist, long after he hears a soft _"I love you,"_ against his ear and feels a kiss against his cheek. He props himself up by turning around to rest against the man's shoulder and press his cheek to the cold surface of his skin now. It's soothing, the feeling of flesh upon flesh, cool and hot.

In his sleep, he holds fast to him as his fever begins to break.

And when he wakes up, he finds himself holding onto a pillow with a small note taped to its white surface. Plucking it off weakly, Derek scans the stereo-typical doctor's scrawl with his near-blind eyes:

_Had to go back to the office. See you at eight._

_-- Greg_

With that, he finds himself smiling, setting the note upon the arm of the couch and burying his nose into the pillow that smells just like the older doctor, of sleep, of sex, and of antiseptic, which brings him to wrinkle his nose a bit in distaste because he still hasn't gotten used to it. _Still._


	2. Office: Late Nights

**Title:** Late Nights  
**Fandom: **Trauma Center  
**Characters/Pairings: **Greg Kasal/Derek Stiles  
**Word Count:** 1,636  
**Prompt: **037. Office  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Spoilers:** None  
**Author's Note: **Just something that I seriously had to do. There wasn't much rhyme or reason behind this one, it was just _pure_ fluffishness, teehee.  
**Summary: **Greg Kasal hates late nights.

_Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Ticka. Tick. Tick._

"Dear Maria Cortes,"

_Ticka. Tick. Tic. Tic. Ticka. Tick. Tick. Ticka._

"Your Coumadin test has come back recently, and I am pleased to inform you that—"

_Tickety. Tick. Tick. Ticka. Tick. Tick. _Pause. _Ticktickatickey. Tick._

"Ugh," Greg at last musters as he pushes himself from his desk with a sigh. He normal wouldn't complain about writing up PT letters, especially when they need to get done, but at this point, he's through with having to start the same damn way over… and over… and over again. Slowly, he presses the heels of his hands into his eyes and rubs at them fiercely, feeling their dryness and discomfort that makes him groan and tilt his neck off to the side. He hears it crack successfully and he lets out a breath of relief, slowly turning back to eye the screen and then his watch. Ten of eleven which means that he'll _probably_ stay for an hour more, just to finish up.

With an eighty wpm average, he'll have it done in no time, right? _Right_.

"Right," he mutters and proceeds to continue on about how her blood pressure _is_ rather high and that—

There is a sharp knock upon his door that causes him to jerk upwards, his brown eyes staring at the entrance intently. Raising a sharp brown, he calls out, "Come in!" and goes back to his work, only to hear soft footsteps and the shutting of said door. Out of the corner of his eye, he can make out a light green scrubs and a fall of mussed brown hair. He reminds himself that Derek's been on-call straight from two this morning and hasn't gotten a bit of sleep, and so he keeps his voice low and soothing. "You have a spare moment from your barrage of patients and you're seeing _me_ when you could be sleeping?" he chuckles and looks to him at last. "You really _do_ love me."

"Oh shut it," Derek mumbles and walks over to the desk, sitting on the edge of it, holding a cup of hot coffee in his hands. He's eyeing it thoughtfully, as if debating on whether to drink it down scalding hot or wait until it is lukewarm. Obviously, he chooses the former, seeing as how he takes a quick draught of it and hisses out his mouth to cool his tongue. "Damn it!" Greg chuckles and reaches a hand up slightly to pat him on the back, feeling his skin through the thin, synthetic and breathable material along his back. "I assume you're saying to yourself, 'Congratulations, Doctor Stiles, you're an idiot'?" Derek manages while still trying to cool his tongue.

"Close enough," Greg says and goes back to typing.

_Ticka. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Ticka. Ticketyticka. Ticka._

"We would like you to come back for a follow-up on May 23rd at 3:45 pm—"

"That woman's _evil_," Derek's voice suddenly comments and Greg blinks as he looks to see that Derek is reading the PT letter. "All she does is nag, nag, nag, _nag…_" He shakes his head and takes another sip of coffee, making a face that signals to Greg that there apparently isn't enough sugar in it for his liking, but he's going to need it. From his desk, he produces two packets of sweetener and two of regular sugar, which Derek laughs at. "Bottomless drawers, hm? What else is in there?"

"Ask and ye shall receive." Greg pauses. "Make a face, and if I know you well enough, ye shall _also_ receive. In your case, I know you _very_ well." He hands him all four packets, knowing he'll put them all in. He remembers first seeing him in the break room, not quite understanding just why he would put in two of each instead of four of one of them.

"_The sweetener's got an aftertaste, so the regular sugar makes it a bit more tolerable, get it?"_

"You _do_ know me pretty well," Derek finally says with a bit of a mischievous tone in his voice, rather brazen, really.

_Tick. Tick. Tickety. Tick. Tick. Ticka. Tick. Tick. Tic. Tic. Tictictic. Ticka._

"We hope to see you very soon. Sincerely—"

_Kiss. Tick. Tick. _

"Mmm… lucky I can touch type, you."

"Just means you can ignore me…"

_Kiss. Lick. Nip. Tick. Tickety. Tick. Tick. Tick. Ticktickatickey._

"—Greg Kasal, M.D., Hope Hospital—"

He tastes hot coffee and the sweetness of the sugar against his tongue, and he can't help but kiss him back slowly, using the brief periods that Derek takes to softly trail his tongue along his ear to change to a new document and begin anew.

_Tick. Tickety. Ticktickaticketytick. Tickticktickticka._

"Dear Andrew Clemenceau,"

_Kiss. _Softly. Sweetly_… _Distractingly.

_Tick. Ticktickatickety. Tick… tick… tick. Tick._

"We regret to inform you that—"

Tongue. Warm. Wet. Inside of his mouth, stroking and coaxing.

"—Thatasdfafduytvbbrdsfsmrte;okfadsfa"

His open palm lands on the keyboard as he feels Derek's fingers wrap around his tie and pull him closer to him, their lips meshing perfectly. He raises up his hand to feel through the soft scrubs, and he can't help but chuckle as Derek opens his mouth to him expectantly, his eyes shut as they are still firmly pressed together. He opens his eyes slowly and sees a flush form upon the surgeon's delicate features. Greg raises a hand up and softly cups his cheek, stroking it softly and feeling the warm skin beneath his fingers. He flicks his tongue out at the corner of Derek's mouth and then pulls back, smiling. "Go home, would you?" Greg murmurs, setting a kiss upon Derek's lips quickly. "At least take a nap in one of the bunks. I'll come by and wake you up..."

"You know that I'd prefer it if you didn't…" Derek replies and leans in for another kiss, and Greg obliges him swiftly, at last pressing their foreheads together and shutting his eyes, feeling the pulse of blood beneath the skin of Derek's temples. "Unless, of course, you plan on trying a different method to wake me up other than just shaking me like I'm some corpse." Greg chuckles and dips his head to rest it at the junction of his shoulder and neck, scenting the clean smell of peroxide and antibiotic gel from his last surgery.

"Maybe something like this?" Greg whispers as he nibbles softly on the soft shell of Derek's ear, feeling a shudder run through the young surgeon as he then pulls back and opens up his laptop once more and slowly backspace his typo on the PT letter. He smiles nonchalantly as Derek looks at him with a look of surprise in his eyes. Quickly, he hops off of the desk, coffee cup still in hand, surprisingly it hasn't spilled. He watches as Derek finishes it and tosses the cup into the trash can, slowly walking over to the door, his hand upon the frame as he looks over his shoulder. "In an hour, all right?"

"All right then, I'll go and catch a bit of sleep… just don't be too late, all right?"

Nodding, Greg watches him leave, fingers running through his brown hair as he removes his glasses and walks down the hall slowly, the door shutting and causing him to disappear from sight. With a sigh, Greg finishes up his letters quickly.

x X x X x X x

The bunks at Hope are built mainly for privacy, their dark curtains that shroud the beds are closed when there is someone occupying one of them. With a smile, Greg sees the only bunk that is shut is the one to his left. With a slight nudge of his hand, he pulls away the curtains slightly to lean in without too much light coming into the small space, and a soft laugh presses out of his throat as he sees a sight he tends to enjoy.

Derek is curled up on the small bed, his face half-buried in the pillow he is sleeping on, his glasses held in his limp hands, and his shirt raised up over over his midriff just slightly to reveal the pale skin of his stomach. Greg leans over a bit more, supporting himself with his left hand and brushing his lips along the taut stomach, opening his mouth and biting down, feeling Derek squirm and let out a sharp gasp. One brown eye opens and looks at him rather sleepily. It scrunches itself up slightly as if to focus, and finally, Derek smiles and sits up, stretching slightly. "What time is it?" he yawns.

"Quarter to twelve… come on, let's go home."

"You and late nights, sheesh," Derek mumbles and swings his feet over the side of the bed, standing up, rubbing his eyes and sliding on his glasses. Greg merely smiles and pulls him close by the waist, kissing him upon the lips slowly, allowing it to linger as best he can before Derek murmurs into his ear that he'll meet him later, but Greg's not so sure Derek will even make it home without falling asleep on the bus, and so… he stands to stay a bit later, waiting for him outside in the parking lot, standing by his car. What can he say? He can't help but worry.

Needless to say, Greg can finally relax when he sees Derek asleep in bed, his cheek pressed up against the pillow, glasses once more gone and on the nightstand. Late nights _indeed_.


	3. Leave: Just In Case

**Title:** Just In Case  
**Fandom: **Trauma Center  
**Characters/Pairings: **Greg Kasal/Derek Stiles  
**Word Count:** 1,347  
**Prompt: **034. Leave  
**Rating: **PG  
**Spoilers:** Meh, not really, just some stuff that happens later on that isn't _really_ too important.  
**Author's Note: **I always wanted to know how Greg felt when he had to let Derek go to Caduceus, what with Sidney being pretty sexy too.  
**Summary: **He's _not_ jealous of his brother. Not at all.

When he steps into his bedroom, he sees Derek sitting on the small window seat, his glasses falling down the bridge of his nose as he has his face buried rather deeply in a thickly-bound book. Greg only shakes his head and slowly pads into the room, the floorboards cold beneath the soles of his feet. At the sound of footsteps, Derek looks up with gentle brown eyes and a smile flickers on his face as he then goes back to reading. As if he hadn't seen a thing.

"Come on, bed now."

"On-One more chapter," Derek hazards in an estimated manner. "And I'll be there. Just gimme a sec."

Laughing softly, he sticks his fingers between the two pages Derek is caught between and leans over to brush Derek's lips in a tentative manner, hearing the young man moan softly within his throat and slowly look at him with half-lidded eyes as they look at one another. "Now," Greg whispers as he finally lets go and pushes the book aside and press Derek against the window and kiss his cheek lovingly. He then repeats the same motion to his forehead, nose, and chin before pulling back and walking to bed, Derek following him. He lifts up the comforter and slides into bed, watching the brunette remove his glasses and set them on the night stand, rubbing his eyes tiredly and setting the alarm on the clock.

"You've got a long drive ahead of you tomorrow," Greg says as he leans over Derek to turn out the lights, watching him shift in the pale yellow light before clicking the lamp off and settling down beside him, arms beneath the pillow. However, there's something that suddenly begins to eat at him. One name.

Sidney.

He glances to Derek who is sleeping soundly at this point, always having been a fast and hard sleeper.

Sidney… is as Caduceus.

At once, he blinks and laughs silently to himself. A sickening well begins to form within the pit of his stomach, something dark and vicious. Greg Kasal is _not_ jealous of his younger brother.

He just... just isn't!

As he lies in bed silently, he can't help but hold Derek to his chest tighter, feeling the warm body shift beneath his arm with a sigh and a soft, "Greg, you're suffocating me…" Loosening his grip, Greg kisses his cheek and rests his temples on the side of Derek's head.

"You're leaving today," Greg murmurs against his ear and kisses it softly, feeling Derek squirm against him just slightly, his slim body rubbing against his own slightly. "You're leaving." He pushes a bit of hair from Derek's face and sees the blank look in his eyes as he stares up at the ceiling. Greg finds himself frowning slightly as he too looks up and suddenly realizes something. "Sidney…" he whispers and sits up slowly, running his hand through his hair and blinking rather slowly. His younger brother and head of Caduceus, the two of them were near mirror images to one another aside from Sidney's darker hair as well as his oblong glasses that gave him an air of… stuffiness, or at least that's how Greg would tease him.

"Go back to sleep," he hears Derek mumble from beneath the sheets as he drifts back to sleep once again, causing Greg to look down and softly pat him on the head, feeling him nestle deeper into the pillow and fall completely unconscious. He sighs and leans back against the headboard, carding his fingers through the bed-mussed hair, his eyes wandering to the still darkened window, his lips twitching occasionally at the thought of Sidney. Normally, he wouldn't worry. Sidney was never exactly a _chick_ magnet, per se… but then again, Derek isn't a chick… He glances to the side and brushes the side of the brunette's face lightly.

Greg always knew that, instinctively, without either of them realizing it, it was always a contest—life, that is. In school, Greg had ended up being one of the more popular kids: hot girls, star of the baseball and soccer team, good grades. _Well-liked._ Sidney, being his younger brother by not even a year, always tended to fall within in his shadow, as small as their gap would always be. Always older by those few hours or minutes or whatever they were, Greg couldn't tell anymore, because the older they got, the more their differences showed. In college, Greg would spend his time at frat parties and still revel in the glory of being one of the highest-ranking students in his class, where as Sidney would spend many of his nights studying to match that.

He doesn't quite remember all of their spats, their arguments about who had a better what. They were stupid, and things like that had no place to take up in Greg's mind. He doesn't recall having fought about anything in the recent years with Sidney. In fact, they'd been working together despite being at different hospitals. Greg was known for having many of his residents end up at Caduceus facilities world-wide simply because of their effective methods. Sidney would thus go on to test and monitor the progress so that they could both be sure that Caduceus and Hope would remain in good hands.

Greg shakes his head a bit and brings one knee up to the chest, feeling his head loll off to the side in a doze as he recalls all of those times back in their childhood. Arguments of who got Mum's attention first, who beat the other to the corner store, who managed to acquire the most scrapes and cuts on the playground (because_ that_ was a kindergartener's sign of bravery, was it not?). There were tiffs about borrowing someone's favorite shirt for "good luck" or tossing some clothes from the wash to get his own clean. Always a competition, and Greg _always_ tried to stay on top.

Sidney was always good, though.

He glances to Derek and leans over to kiss soft lips that are, as per usual, within his reach and his own to kiss whenever he felt the need to. A hand reaches up to stroke the side of his neck, and Greg smiles faintly as Derek kisses him back slowly, shoulders arching back a bit so that he can lift himself a bit more without too much effort.

Sidney… he's not jealous of _Sidney_…

Greg kisses him a bit harder, feeling Derek squirm just slightly as his arms go around the slim body and he pulls him close to his chest, slowly placing kisses here and there against his neck and shoulder, feeling him shiver violently in reaction. At one point, he finds himself biting down… _hard_… and Derek yelps, pulling away and cupping his shoulder slightly.

"What was that for!?" he shouts, eyes blindly looking about without his glasses.

Greg pauses for a moment before chuckling.

"It was nothing," he replies and leans over to pull him back forward, proceeding to kiss him once again, this time softer to coax him back, and once he has him warmly pressed up against his bare chest, he holds him close and tilts his head to the side, opening his mouth with a slight press of his tongue to his lips and enjoying the easy manipulation as he lies him down and proceeds to spend the night pleasing himself with the fact that he doesn't have any reason to be jealous of Sidney. No reason at all.

He bites down again upon the soft, pale column of Derek's neck.

"Ouch!"

Merely acknowledging it with a grunt, Greg nips the junction of the young surgeon's shoulder.

"What the—"

And at last, he flicks his tongue out to rub at the now dark red spot he's set upon Derek's skin, a reminder of him.

Just in case.


	4. Blood: Sanguine

**Title:** Sanguine  
**Fandom: **Trauma Center  
**Characters/Pairings: **Greg Kasal/Derek Stiles  
**Word Count:** 1,655  
**Prompt: **088. Blood  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Spoilers:** GUIIIIIIIILT!! Kthx, XD other than that, there isn't much else to spoil.  
**Author's Note: ** I seriously was in one of those crazy moods where I wanted to write about blood, yay!  
**Summary: ** Derek didn't think that Caduceus would be _this_ demanding.

GUILT.

Gangliated Utrophin Immuno Latency Toxin.

Damn mouthful, damn handful, damn pain in the ass, Derek thinks sternly as he walks in through the door to the house, shuts it and removes his shoes. He feels filthy, completely reviled with the fact that he stood beneath the shower in the hospital only to be called in once more and covered in blood again. The second shower he took was ridiculously short, simply because, the fact of the matter was he wanted to go home. Just go home and lie down and fall asleep and not wake up until noon, and maybe read a bit or just lie there and have the sun hit him on his shoulders as he would lie down and feel Greg next to him, whispering softly into his ear.

His cab home stops and he pays his fair before walking up the path to the steps and fumbling around for his keys, unlocking the door and feeling a rush of... nothing. No warm air. No heat. The house is dark, and cold, but then again, the winter just happens to do that, but then he recalls how Greg prefers to keep the heat off at night, "Because it's pointless when I've got you next to me," he had said, and Derek chuckles now. Damn, could he use some of that heat right about now.

He removes his coat slowly, feeling the heavy material slide off of his shoulders with ease and hit the floor. He'll pick it up in the morning, when he's got the feeling back in his arms. Already, his fingers are tingling slightly, telling him that they're numb. His breath comes slowly at first as he begins to step further in the foyer, each movement a labor of herculean proportions. At one point, he leans against the wall in the corridor and tilts his head upwards slightly, shutting his eyes.

A migrane forms in the front of his head, and he clutches it slightly, feeling his fingers pressing into his skin fiercely. His eyes dart from side to side and he gives a slight jerk, digging his heel into the floor slightly, biting his lower lip until he can feel the migrane slowly subsiding. It's going to have to wait until he's showered off the night's worth of life-saving and he's gotten something solid into his stomach, (which is probably roiling with stomach acid of a negative pH level with all of the cups of coffee and No-Doz he's popped betwen surgeries followed by the thirty-minute naps in the darkened bunks that ended up seeing more like a second-long each).

He drops his bag somewhere in the hallway, his fingers at once proceeding to fully lose their feeling as he strips off his shirt first, his wifebeater clinging to his chest with sweat that has dried and caused the material to cling to his chest. He jerks it away slightly, wincing at the feeling of how it releases his skin, and he untucks it from his regulation Caduceus scrubs that slide down his hips easily and pool at the floor. He'll pick it up in the morning when he's back to work, right now it's all about getting rid of all remnants of the hospital off of his body, if for the night only. At once, he removes his glasses and lets them hang betwen his fingers, however, a warm hand grabs his own and removes the glasses from his hand.

"You don't need to break them, you're blind enough," a deep voice says and he jerks slightly and looks upwards to see a blur seemed to gaze down at him softly. "You're home," Greg says and Derek can feel fingers pressing down against his taut shoulders, pinching the muscles beneath his skin and causing him to shiver a bit, leaning forwards to feel another hand in his hair, rubbing softly at the nape of his neck. "Rather late, though, everything all right?"

Derek merely shakes his head, his hands trembling just slightly. It's not just the fatigue that's causing him to shake, but the feeling of barely being able to see now without his glasses.

"More GUILT?"

"It never ends," Derek murmurs, and squints a bit to get a good view of things, but then shaking his head. No use, he can't see.

"I know," comes the reply, and suddenly Derek can feel himself being lifted into a hug, his toes just barely grazing the wooden floor, and he holds fast to the warm button-down shirt that is partially opened on Greg's chest. He finds himself slowly pressing his lips to the warm skin available to his lips, feeling the taller man shiver just slightly and set him down, planting a kiss upon his head. Derek tilts his head up a bit and touches his lips to Greg's tentatively, letting his eyes shut slowly, his body being shifted just slightly towards the bathroom where Greg nudges him into the white-tiled room and shuts the door, turning on the lights dimly.

Immediately, Derek understands and feels his way around tiredly, fumbling with the shower and turning it on, removing the rest of his clothing and sliding them into what feels like the wicker hamper before stepping into the shower. When the water hits the skin, he suddenly yelps at the heat that is pouring on his body, burning, scalding, and he shoves himself up against the far side of the shower. It's like molten metal or acid dousing him completely and his skin his still burning, heart now pounding as the hot water itself grows utterly unbearable. He presses his head to the cool tile until suddenly a hand grabs his shoulder and pulls him out with yet another shout, shoving a towel over his head and body and pulling him close.

"Of course I can't trust you to turn on the shower without nearly killing yourself," Greg sighs and Derek hears him shifting the temperature of the water to a more tepid one, pulling the towel away and pushed in once more, this time sighing in pleasure. The door to the bathroom shuts and he thinks Greg has left, only to hear footsteps come forward, and the shifting of the toilet seat with the weight of being sat upon. Again he sighs and shakes his wet hair slightly, feeling it slicked down heavily against his scalp, running over every curve of his body and loosening his muscles so much that he can barely raise his arm to shut off the water.

All he recalls is the night spent operating.

_"Vitals are dropping!"_

_"More stabilizer over her!"  
_

_"He's going into cardiac arrest!"_

_"Come on, up, we've got another patient."_

_"No, you dan't sleep! Get up!"_

About fifteen minutes later, Greg opens the shower curtain and turns it off.

Derek doesn't know if anything could have been worse than the blood though. Yeah, that was the worst, he thinks to himself. He had it on his hands all night long, and after every surgery and before as well, seeing as how it's always standard procedure, he washed his hands clean each time, scrubbing beneath his nails and at his lower arms and elbows, trying to scrub away the feeling of thick liquid running. They had frequent sprays from chest cavities and from time to time it would coat his chest or arms while his face remained untouched with his filtering mask and goggles that Angie had insisted on early in the night.

_"Last thing you need is to be infected, doctor,"_

He is pulled out by his wrist and feels a towel going over his shoulder. Without thinking, he shakes his head, the heaviness of his hair bothering him, and a spray of water comes flying to every direction imaginable, causing Greg to laugh and stroke his cheek softly. Again, he shakes his head and shivers. Bright red, every just _red_, and he can't help but moan and let Greg towel him dry softly as he murmurs...

"Everywhere," he whispers as a shirt goes over his head.

"What?"

"Just everywhere, God, left and right..."

"Come on, Derek, sleep."

"Blood, God I don't think I've seen so much... so many people, damn it."

He feels Greg slip on his boxers and rest his hand against his lower back slightly, sliding his glasses over his nose and tilting his chin up slightly. "It's over now," Greg replies and kisses his forehead. "We've all got our own point for how much we can take... you know?"

"Mmhm," Derek hums with a nod.

But as he lies down in bed, glasses once more abandoned on the nightstand now, he can't help but envision splotches of blood, squeezed beneath his eyelids as he shuts them and tries to sleep. The blood always comes back however, and even in his sleep, he can feel it running down his limbs and when he wakes up in the morning, he's panting, clutching the sheets to his sweat soaked body. So. Much. Blood.

_"We need some suct--"_

_Splash_

_"Dr. Stiles!"_

_"'M fine... come on, suction? _Today, please?"

_"Sure thing..."_

He cries out softly and clutches his chest, squeezing his eyes shut and feeling hands push him down onto the bed.

"You're sleeping," Greg's voice states and Derek looks up tiredly only to have rough palms close his eyes, the bright sunlight filtering in through the window is covered by curtains, and at once, Derek begins to doze off again, smooth lips trailing along his jaw and neck. Said kisses proceed to seemingly chase after the sanguine apparitions, and at once, Derek finds himself at last being lulled into a dreamless sleep. A dreamless, _black_ sleep.


End file.
